Come down, and welcome me to this world's light; Confer with me of murder and of death; There's not a hollow cave, nor lurking place, Where bloody murder or detefted rape Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; Tit. Art thou Revenge? and art thou fent to me, Tam. I am; therefore come down, and welcome me. Tit. Do me fome fervice, ere I come to thee: Lo, by thy fide where rape and murder stands; Now give fome furance that thou art Revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels; And then I'll come and be thy waggoner, And whirl along with thee about the globes: Provide two proper palfries black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon fwift away, And find out murders in their guilty caves. And when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will difmount, and by thy waggon-wheel Trot like a fervile foot-man all day long; Even from Hyperion's rifing in the east, Until his very downfal in the fea. And day by day I'll do this heavy talk, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. Tam. These are my minifters, and come with me. Tit. Are they thy minifters? what are they call'd? Tam. Rapine and Murder; therefore called fo, 'Cause they take vengeance on such kind of men. Tit. Good Lord, how like the Emprefs' fons they are, And you the Emprefs! but we worldly men Have miferable mad mistaking eyes: O fweet Revenge, now do I come to thee, And if one arm's embracement will content thee, Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-fick fits, For For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. (26) · Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee: Tam. What wouldft thou have us do, Andronicus? Dem. Shew me a murderer, I'll deal with him. Chi. Shew me a villain, that has done a rape, And I am fent to be reveng'd on him. Tam. Shew me a thousand, that have done thee wrong; And I will be revenged on them all. Tit. Look round about the wicked ftreets of Rome, And when thou find'ft a man that's like thyself, Good Murder, ftab him; he's a murderer. (26) See, bere he comes, and I must play my theme.] Tho' this reading has obtain'd as far back as the first edition in folio,-to play a theme, I think, is no juftifiable expreffion, nor one that our author would have chofe to use. The reading, I have given, has the Authority of the oldeft quarto's Well Well may't thou know her by thy own proportion, I pray thee, do on them fome violent death; Tam. Well haft thou leffon'd us; this fhall we do. } Tit. Marcus, my brother!-'tis fad Titus calls: Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; Mar. This will I do, and foon return again. [Exit. And take my minifters along with me. Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder ftay with me ; Or elfe I'll call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. Tam. What fay you, boys, will you abide with him, Whiles I go tell my Lord, the Emperor, How I have govern'd our determin'd jeft? Yield to his humour, fmooth and speak him fair, Tit. I know them all, tho' they fuppofe me mad; And will o'er-reach them in their own devices: A pair of curfed hell-hounds and their dam. [Afide. Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here. Tam. Farewel, Andronicus; Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes. [Exit Tamora. Tit. I know, thou doft; and, fweet Revenge, farewel. Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd? Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do. Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! Enter Publius and Servants. Pub. What is your will? I take them, Chiron, and Demetrius. Tit. Fy, Publius, fy! thou art too much deceiv'd, Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound; Oh, villains Chiron and Demetrius ! Here ftands the fpring whom you have ftain'd with mud, Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear Villains! Villains!-for fhame you could not beg for grace. And make two pasties of your shameful heads; To make this banquet, which I wish might prove [He cuts their throats. So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, And fee them ready 'gainst the mother comes. [Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths with Aaron Prisoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, fince 'tis my father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content. Goth. And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tyger, this accurfed devil; Let him receive no fuftenance, fetter him, "Till he be brought unto the Emp'ror's face, For teftimony of thefe foul proceedings; And fee, the ambush of our friends be strong; I fear, the Emperor means no good to us. Aar. |